


Christmas Traditions

by Winchester_with_Wings



Category: DCU, The Flash (TV 2014), The Flash - All Media Types
Genre: Candy, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Christmas Tree, DO NOT COPY, DO NOT REPLICATE, Do Not Translate, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Gingerbread House, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Smut, Whipped Cream, sweet tooth, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-28
Updated: 2015-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-10 01:34:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5563735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winchester_with_Wings/pseuds/Winchester_with_Wings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You don’t really do all the Christmas traditions because you live alone. Barry comes over Christmas Eve and decides that you have to partake in these traditions such as putting up a tree, making a gingerbread house, mistletoe, presents and confessions of love and sex by the light of the fire.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Traditions

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this is a Christmas fic that I meant to have written by Christmas Day but I was so busy that I couldn’t write it and then I got blocked for a day so it’s finally done. I hope ya’ll like it. 
> 
> *I don't own the gifs*
> 
> Merry Christmas!!!

 

[Originally posted by thecwflash](http://tmblr.co/ZSA6Zn1YdaWrK)

 

The only evidence of the Christmas holiday in your apartment is the smell of apple pie baking in the oven and a pile of presents for other people sitting on the coffee table in your living room. There’s no Christmas tree, no stockings, no holiday themed dish towels folded over the oven handles.

Okay maybe your bed sheets are flannel and have snowmen and Santas on them but that’s because they’re really warm and your feet get cold at night and it’s not like anyone would be getting close enough to see them in the first place.

Honestly, what’s the point of decorating your apartment when you go visit other people for the holiday? No one comes over to your place so there’s no point in going to the trouble of decorating for yourself.

Not that your friend Barry Allen would understand. He’s been exceptionally cheerful as each day gets closer to Christmas.

He’s probably been to at least three Christmas parties already. And you? Only one and it had been a lame one for work. But that’ll change tomorrow when you go over to Joe West’s house for Christmas. Both Barry and Iris invited you; Barry invited you because he’s so geeked about the holiday and seems to genuinely want you to come over and Iris invited you because she’d suffered through that same workplace Christmas party you’d been to and because she claims your departments (reporters and photographers) don’t get to hang out enough.

Barry had suggested you make gingerbread cookies but you’d grimaced and told him that you’d already decided to make an apple pie and sugar cookies. The cookies were all done, just needed to be iced and the apple pie was in the oven.

You’re walking over to your living room to turn on the tv and watch _How the Grinch Stole Christmas_ , which is your favorite Christmas movie, when there’s a rapid knocking at your door. You hit play on the DVR and go over and open the door, surprised to find your friend Barry on the other side with grocery store bags in each hand.

“Merry Christmas Eve!” Barry greets you and you giggle.

“Barry, what are you doing here?”

“Well you said that no one ever comes over to your place for Christmas, so I decided to change that,” Barry says, nudging his way past you and into your apartment. He kisses you on the cheek as he passes and you recoil in surprise because he’s never done that before and also because the tip of his nose it freezing. He sets all of the bags on you kitchen counter and turns around to look at your apartment while he takes off his scarf. “Whoa, you weren’t kidding. You’ve literally got no Christmas decorations up,” he observes. When you’d told him originally about your lack of decorations, he pretended to be offended and teased you about it.

You take his scarf and jacket and hang it up in your coat closet and shrug, “I _told_ you. No one comes over, I come to them.” You slap his shoulder playfully and try to look in the grocery bags but Barry tries to hide them with his arms and body.

“Well maybe it’s because you don’t have the right hostess attitude,” he teases you.

“Can I get you something to drink?” you offer, just to prove him wrong.

“Yes, please,” he accepts with a smug smirk. As you get him and yourself a glass of wine he starts to unpack everything in the bags. He hears your tv and looks over his shoulder. “Oh you’re watching The Grinch? Awesome!”

“It’s my favorite Christmas movie,” you say, popping the cork off the bottle and starting to pour. Barry appears at your side, his chest almost pressed against your shoulder.

“Is it because you’re a grinch too?” he playfully scolds you, picking up his glass and taking a sip.

“Well _excuse me_ , Mr. Barry Allen, Mr. Scarlet Speedster. I cannot decorate my whole apartment in 30 seconds like _you_. It would take time and I didn’t have it and I didn’t see the point.” Barry is grinning ear to ear in response to your sassiness.

“I’ll do it for you then. Where’s your tree?”

“Why do it now, Barr? It’s Christmas Eve! It’ll just have to be taken down in a few days.” But you still point to the storage closet that can be accessed on your balcony.

“Then I’ll do that too! Come on, Y/N. It’s a Christmas tradition…like the actual main tradition too…” So Barry sets down his wine and you lean on the counter and watch as Barry speeds his way around your apartment taking out your tree, putting it up and decorating it and then putting out any other decorations he can find packed away.

It takes him maybe less than one minute to do it all. And he ends his little race right next to you with the wine glass back in his hand and taking a sip. You’re smiling like a fool because even if _you_ had decorated, it wouldn’t have looked this good. He’d turned on the fireplace, decorated the mantle with lit candles and garland, put all of the presents for everyone under the tree, draped a christmas themed blanket over your couch and set out random little Christmas figurines on several surfaces. The tree even looks like he’s added silver tinsel which you’ve never seen in your holiday decorations. He must’ve brought it with him.

“Barry, it looks amazing!”

“I would’ve hung up a stocking too but I couldn’t find one.”

“Oh I don’t have a stocking. Why should I, if its just me? I’m not gonna put stuff in it.” You shrug and Barry looks at you, maybe even looks you up and down. You just know from the look on his face that he’s going to crack a joke.

“I would’ve been happy to stuff your stocking. I’d do it every year so that you would never have to do it yourself again.” He winks and the sexual innuendo is so obvious that it makes both blush before you burst out laughing. You even snort and that makes Barry laugh harder. When the two of you are coming down from your giggles, Barry breathes in through his nose. “What smells so good?” His eyes are wide with wonder because your whole apartment is starting to smell like the cinnamon apples. You point to the oven.

“Apple pie. The sugar cookies are already done,” you point to the platter next to the fridge. “Just gotta ice them. Wanna help?” Barry nods eagerly.

The two of you decorate the Christmas tree, snowman, bell and ornament shaped cookies for the next fifteen minutes while watching _The Grinch_. You’re so focused sometimes on getting the details right that Barry nudges your elbow to mess you up.

“Stoppp!” you whine and stomp your foot when your snowman ends up with a smeared nose and a crooked mouth. You punish Barry by wiping icing on his nose, which he tries to reach with his tongue, to no avail. Though you certainly enjoying watching him try.

Barry is so cute, sweet, funny, and smart. He’s actually very _very_ handsome in his forest green sweater and you’d be crazy to deny that you have a thing for him. Seeing his tongue move around makes you think about how badly you wish you could kiss him. And maybe you should. He _did_ kiss you on the cheek earlier.

You take a chance and wipe the icing off for him and then slowly put your finger in your mouth. Barry’s eyes slightly widen and his lips part. He’s staring at your pursed lips and you can feel your cheeks start to get hot. The second you pull your finger out of your mouth, Barry clears his throat and looks away, blushing.

“Hmm, so…” you both say at the same time.

“What are you making for the party at Joe’s?” you ask, figuring that was a harmless conversation topic.

“Well, I don’t really bake, like you. I’m more of a bottle of wine or a cheese and crackers platter kind-of-guy,” Barry laughs at himself as he starts to gently plate the finished cookies. “I do make a really good gingerbread house though,” his shoulders bounce up and down with his cockiness. It’s a cute look on him but you pretend not to notice.

“I’ve never made a gingerbread house,” you say with little emotion. You don’t think it’s a big deal but Barry clearly does.

“Seriously?!” Barry starts to clear space on the kitchen island counter. “This is unacceptable.”

“Why? What’s the big deal?” you laugh. Barry grabs you by the shoulders like he’s about to knock some sense into you. “I don’t like gingerbread cookies. I wouldn’t eat a gingerbread house, it would go to waste.” You think you sound perfectly reasonable. Not everyone likes ginger-flavored things. You don’t like gingersnap cookies either.

“It’s a Christmas tradition,” Barry scoffs as he rolls his eyes. He releases you and walks over to his grocery bags.

“Well it was never something _my_ family did.” There’s a sad note in your voice and you both recognize it; Barry’s smile falters for a minute. Since both of your parents died in a car accident when you were a teenager, you didn’t talk about them often, especially around Christmas because you didn’t want to bring anyone down, including yourself. Barry nods in understanding and slows down but he still brings the bags to the island. “What’s in the bags?”

“Maybe you and I should start up this gingerbread house tradition. I already bought all of the stuff we need.”

“You came prepared?” you ask incredulously, as he begins to unpack a basic gingerbread house kit and the several bags of candy he’d chosen as decorations: mints, candy canes, gum drops, jelly beans, M&Ms, skittles, chocolate chips, etc (and the list does go on).

“Yes. Because we’re gonna make a gingerbread house,” Barry says, matter-of-fact like there’s no use in fighting it. He opens the kit and starts pulling out the pieces of cookie.

“I don’t like gingerbread,” you say again, reluctantly joining him in sorting out the ingredients.

“Well…that’s just crazy. You know who doesn’t like gingerbread cookies?”

“People who like sugar cookies or chocolate chip cookies?” you venture.

“Crazy people,” Barry deadpans. You both stare at each other awkwardly for a silent three seconds and then Barry cracks up. You pop an M&M into your mouth.

“Alright, let’s do this,” you concede.

Icing is apparently involved in this activity too and since your little finger-lickin stunt with the sugar cookies, every time you get the sugary stuff on your hands–on accident!–you’re very self-conscious about how you wipe it off. You’re so nervous about it because you also see Barry watching you out of the corner of your eye every time it happens too. And unfortunately, you’re so clumsy with the icing that it happens several times. Barry starts to tease you about eating all of the ‘sugar cement’ but really he’s a total hypocrite.

You’re just now starting to decorate the house and the yard you’ve given it and already almost half of the candy is gone!

You pull the bag of Skittles out of Barry’s hand.

“Just because you can and have to eat all the time, doesn’t mean that you _should_ eat everything, Barry Allen!” you scold him and smack his hands away from the jelly beans. Barry just giggles and tries to shield himself from your playful hits. He’s sitting on the counter now, his shadow looming over the gingerbread house. 

While you’re decorating the front of the house and the yard, using an M&M as a doorknob and outlining the door with licorice, and using pretzels and candy canes to make a fence, and using gumdrops to line the path to the door…Barry is icing the roof to make it look like it’s got shingles and snow and icicles. The icicles seem tricky for him because he’s trying to make the icing hang and not drop off the roof entirely. You’re crafting a character for the house too, using toothpicks and licorice and some red and yellow icing.

“Is that Santa?” Barry asks excitedly. You hold it up for him to look at.

“Nooo, it’s you. It’s a little candy Flash. See the tiny yellow lightning bolt?” you smile at him proudly, making the edible character dance in his face. “Why would you think this is Santa? Look at him. He’s cut, like you. A real lean, mean machine.” Barry raises his eyebrows at your description but you’re trying to be silly so you pretend like you’re not really complimenting the fine specimen that is your friend.

“Mm-hm sure,” Barry accepts humbly as you place the candy-Flash by the front door. “But you should really make a Santa.”

“But why?” You move to stand in front of Barry, his legs hanging off the counter and his knees lining up with your rib cage. “You’re smart, Barr. Do the math, you could actually _be_ Santa with how fast you are.” Barry grins down at you. He tucks a piece of your hair behind your ear like he’s already done a couple of times tonight–with messy icing hands you weren’t always able to get your own hair out of your face.

“And would you be my little helper? One of my elves?” Barry’s voice is soft like he’s asking a different kind of question.

“I think Cisco would be a lovely elf,” you deflect and answer. Barry chuckles at that.

“And what about a Mrs. Claus?” You’re not sure what he’s really trying to imply. Who could he be thinking about? Caitlin? Iris? You? While you ponder your answer, Barry’s just sitting on your counter like an adorable child who’s waiting to hear if he can lick the spoon clean of cookie dough. He’s fiddling with the bag of icing.

“Well Barry, I think you need to be dating her before calling her your Mrs.” That’s a neutral answer right?

“This is true,” he says, twisting his mouth in thought. “I’ll have to get to work on that.”

What the hell does that mean?

Barry surprises you by holding up a piece of gingerbread cookie to your mouth.

“Try it,” he commands you with a challenging squint of his pretty green eyes. You grimace and pinch your lips shut and shake your head. You try to back away from him but Barry opens his legs and hooks his calves around your waist, holding you hostage between his legs and against the countertop. His heels dig into your lower back. “Come on, please, try it for me?” he pouts and gives you puppy dog eyes. You can’t resist for long so you roll your eyes take a small bite. It’s not that you find the flavor disgusting or repulsive, it’s just that you don’t like it. So Barry hasn’t really won the battle he thinks he has as he waits for you to finish.

“I still don’t like it,” you shrug. “Now hand me a sugar cookie,” you demand, holding out your hand. He swats your hand away.

“Ugh! Well maybe you just to to try it with icing?!” Barry squeezes the icing bag and heaps a big ol’ glob of icing onto the gingerbread. He holds it up to your mouth again and the two of you hold each other’s stares as you take another bite. There’s a weird tension now as you become aware of Barry actually feeding you a sweet. You try to avoid biting his fingers but the piece of cookie isn’t very big and your lips brush his fingertips as you take the whole piece into your mouth.

The proportion of icing to gingerbread is greater and some of it doesn’t even make it into your mouth. Instead, it smears on your lips. You’re about to lick your lips clean when you notice Barry’s right hand reaching out.

Using his thumb, he wipes along your plump lower lip. He gets it all off and looks like he’s about to lick his finger clean like you did earlier. But you gently take hold of his wrist and guide his thumb back to your mouth. Your tongue darts out to lick the pad of his thumb where most of the icing is. Barry’s eyes are transfixed on your actions and your eyes are fixed on him and his reaction. You wrap your lips around his thumb and slide your lips up and down, stopping at his knuckle. You swirl your tongue around the fingertip making sure you’ve licked all the icing off. Though that’s obviously not your motivation anymore.

Barry’s fingertips are ghosting over your jaw and cheek as you suck on his thumb for another second. Your teeth graze the pad of his thumb as you pull your mouth away. You’re cheeks are burning hot–likely from embarrassment because you’ve never done anything like this before–but you really like and really _want_ Barry. You figure that instead of blurting out your feelings, an impulsive action might be better because then you can just laugh it off as a joke if he’s not interested.

But Barry’s pupils are blown wide with lust. You’ve released his wrist but his thumb is still resting on your lower lip and the rest of his hand is cupping your cheek. You dare to press a kiss to his thumb. And then Barry’s hand suddenly shifts and moves to cup the back of your head and tilt it up. He leans forward and presses his soft pink lips to yours.

Barry breaths a deep sigh of content through his nose as his other hand comes up to cradle your head too and he kisses you two more times, only letting half a second pass between the moment his lips leave yours and then meet them again.

Somehow–because your eyes are closed and you’re not watching–Barry unwraps his legs from around you and gets down from the counter. His arms encircle your waist. Barry walks you backward until your hips are pinned against the other kitchen counter. His tongue darts out and brushes over your upper lip, coaxing you to open your mouth. He runs his tongue along yours and you think that you can feel his mouth curl like he’s smiling.

“You taste so sweet. Like the icing,” he breathes between kisses.

“So do you.” Barry’s eaten more candy that you tonight. Barry’s hand slides up your back to press between your shoulder blades to pull you closer to him. You’ve splayed your hands across his lower back. You let out a little moan before you can stop it.

_Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep! Beep!_

You both jump like you’ve been caught doing something wrong. But it’s just the oven’s timer going off. You stare at Barry and his flushed cheeks and swollen lips. He’s staring down at you, breathing deeply like he can’t catch his breath and he slowly starts to grin.

“That’s the apple pie,” you explain, trying to get out of Barry’s grasp and walk over to the oven. Barry doesn’t let you go, he tries to hold you back by hooking his fingers in your belt loops.

“Let it burn,” he suggests rebelliously. “I want to keep kissing you,” he pleads, chuckling as he tries to pull you back into his embrace, your back to his chest. He kisses your neck, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“No, Barr, it’s a good pie and it’s for tomorrow night! I can’t let it burn!” you protest. Barry’s neck kisses are tickling you and so are his fingers. You start to giggle and curl in on yourself, prying at his hands, trying to make him stop. You drop to the floor and he falls with you. “Ahh!” you squeal, “Barry, stoppp…I swear if this pie burns, I won’t kiss you anymore.” That’s a total bluff. He releases you immediately, his own hands going to his sides as he laughs hard.

You crawl over to the oven, grab an oven mitt and open the door to a perfectly golden-crusted apple pie. You take it out, get to your feet, set it down and turn off the oven. Barry’s just laying on your kitchen floor, arms and legs out straight. He’s rolling his head back and forth and looking up at the ceiling.

“Do you have ice cream for that?” he randomly asks.

“Yep,” you say proudly, “And whipped cream, if anyone wants it.”

“Ooooh,” Barry says in a high-pitched voice and then he giggles and takes a deep breath. “God, that smells _soo_ good. Fun fact: you also smell good. Like really good. Does your perfume have vanilla in it? You always smell like a cookie. You’re so freakin sweet in so many ways,” Barry giggles and if you didn’t know that The Flash can’t get drunk, you’d think he was tipsy from the wine you’ve been drinking. “I want to taste every inch of you,” he says, rolling his head so that he can look at you. You’re just staring at him, completely awestruck at his confession. Barry grins and gets to his feet. “I guess that’s part one of your Christmas present, me telling you how much I like you, how much I want you.”

“Are you serious?” Even though you were just kissing, this sounds like something out of a dream and you can’t believe it.

“Y/N, why else would I deck your apartment out with mistletoe? That’s another Christmas tradition, you know?” Barry pulls on your arm and brings you under the tiny festive plants (that’s right, multiple ones) you hadn’t noticed hanging from your kitchen track-lights. He starts to kiss a trail of kisses up your neck and along your jaw. You’re more than happy to expose your throat to his seeking lips. “Is this okay?” he whispers against your skin.

“God, yes, Barry,” you reply, your fingers sliding up Barry’s neck to card through his hair. You pull on his hair to raise his head and bring his lips crashing down on yours.

Barry vibrates under your grip as your kisses become more and more passionate. You’ve seen him do it before and know the reasons why it happens. To know that you’re the one causing it, turns you on.

Barry gets control of his vibrations and holds you tight, his hand slides down to cup your ass. He’s pressing his hips into yours and you can feel his growing erection. You start to kiss and suck on Barry’s neck. “Mmm, Barry, the bed?” You nip at his earlobe.

Barry groans. “I have a better idea. Totally romantic,” Barry holds your face between his two hands and he places an extra soft kiss to your lips. “You deserve romantic.” Barry speeds away into your bedroom and the living room and then comes back to the kitchen to scoop you up and carry you over to the living room.

“Barry, what are we doing?” you giggle. Your couch is large and wide with a huge square ottoman which fits against the couch in a way that can practically turn it into a bed. That’s what Barry has done. He’s constructed a bed on your couch in front of your fireplace with your comforter, some more blankets and pillows from your bedroom.

“Your bedsheets are awesome, by the way,” he says as he sets you down on the couch. “And we…are going to do whatever you’re comfortable doing.” Barry lays down next to you and props himself up on his elbow. “Because I’ve wanted you for so long, I’m willing to go at whatever pace you choose.”

You grab his sweater and pull him on top of you. Barry responds enthusiastically, rolling and grinding his body on yours. The two of you are pulling at each other’s clothing. The room is so hot and so are his touches and kisses. Every piece of exposed skin gets his attention from his hands and his mouth.

When he’s removed your shirt and you’ve removed his layers, you both pause to appraise each other. You actually think for a second that you might see a small spark of lightning in his eyes as he grins.

“You’re so beautiful. So sexy,” he growls, his hands roaming from your hips up to your breasts. You arch your back, thrusting your body into his hands.

Barry pulls down on the cups of your bra and exposes your breasts. As one hand massages one breast and rolls your nipple between his fingers, Barry’s mouth takes on your other one, his tongue swirling around your nipple. He nips at it, tugging it between his teeth and you gasp. It feels so good that your body undulates, begging for more contact. The friction between yours and his jeans is driving you mad. You’re wet and aching for Barry but your jeans are so tight that his grinding isn’t rubbing you right.

“Barry, I need you,” you whimper, reaching for his belt buckle. “I can’t take it anymore.” Barry grabs your wrists and pins your arms above your head. He gives you a challenging smirk which commands that you keep your hands up.

He stands up next to the couch and undoes his jeans. He hesitates at removing them but when you nod, he pushes his jeans and boxers to the floor. His hard cock springs free, standing up at attention, bouncing up and down enough that it’s hitting his lean flat stomach. A naked Barry Allen is something you’d only dreamed about until now and sweet baby Jesus, he is so fucking gorgeous. His skin is pale and smooth like marble and he’s so taut and toned that he really must be a sculpted masterpiece but in reality, his muscles are directly related to his duty as a superhero. It hits you just like that…you’re about to have sex with a superhero.

You suddenly get really self-conscious, trying to readjust your bra and cover up but Barry kneels on the couch to hover over you.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, Y/N,” Barry graciously offers but you shake your head.

“I want to.”

Barry slowly takes off your bra and then he unbuttons your pants and pulls them off along with your underwear. You think that he’s moving so slow there’s no way he’s still aroused but once you’re completely naked, you see his cock throbbing and moving on it’s own, just twitching in anticipation.

Barry passionately kisses you as he aligns his body with yours. He reaches down to your aching core and slides a finger up and down your slick folds before pushing one and then two fingers. He only pumps and curls his fingers three or four times before he retracts them. Then he’s stroking his cock and slicking it up with your juices. The head of his dick rubs over your clit a few times before he slowly starts to push into you.

You wince because it’s been awhile since you were with someone. “You’re so tight,” Barry grunts. He fills you to the hilt and starts to move in and out slowly but gradually picking up his pace. His own face looks like he’s wincing like the pleasure he’s feeling is so intense that he’s trying to control himself and make this all last.

You don’t last long before you orgasm and tighten around Barry even more.You’re so slick though that in no time, Barry is thrusting in and out of you so fast that your second orgasm feels like it lasts a whole minute because his thrusts never relent. Barry grunts and moans and they’re the most wonderful noises you’ve ever heard him make. His hips stutter and you think he’s about to come when he stops.

He rolls the two of you over so that you’re suddenly on top. He urges you to sit up and ride him. Holding his hands for leverage and resistance you start to move. Barry tosses his head back into a pillow and his mouth drops open.

“Fuck, yes, that feels so damn good. Keep going, Baby,” he groans. You’re bouncing up and down and he’s thrusting up into you. He goes so deep that it makes you squeal or moan. Barry reaches up with one hand to grab ahold of one of your breasts as you move. They’re bouncing too and since you’re well endowed in the breast department, you’re confident in saying that Barry loves your tits.

You start to rub your clit as you feel another climax over the horizon. Barry moves your hand and takes over by rubbing your clit with his rapidly moving thumb. You crash down hard as you come. Your vision goes white and your whole body convulses and shakes. It makes your hips buck and grind and ride Barry even faster and his stuttering shouts of “oh, oh god, oh!” tell you that what you’re doing is bringing him to the brink of his own climax.

Your hands are planted firmly on Barry’s chest and your fingers are curled and your nails are digging into his skin but he doesn’t care. He starts thrusting up into so hard that one of your hands has to brace yourself by grabbing onto the back of the couch. His thrusts starts to stutter and become erratic.

“I’m…I’m gonna…” and he does, with one particularly deep thrust he spills himself into you.

You sit there for a moment, still sitting in his lap with his softening cock inside you. You’re both panting and Barry’s hands are planted on your hips, this thumbs rubbing soft tender circles into your skin. You’re that one who leans down to kiss him slowly.

“I should probably go clean myself up,” you say, your lips so close to his that they touch as you speak.

“I should help you,” Barry offers. You smile and kiss him again.

“It won’t take me long. You can help me next time.” Barry gives you a goofy and satisfied grin.

“There’s gonna be a next time?”

“Oh definitely. If you want it, I mean,” you say nervously, slowly lifting your body off of Barry. He looks so dazed and happy.

“Mmm, mm-hm.”

It takes you a few minutes to clean yourself up in the bathroom but when you come back out to the living room, still completely naked, Barry is laying on his side on the couch with the remote in his hand. He pats the couch and invites you to be his little spoon. _How the Grinch Stole Christmas_ is over and Barry has turned on _Elf_. He drapes a blanket over your bodies and keeps kissing your neck and shoulders as you watch the movie.

“I have present for you, you know,” Barry mumbles in your ear.

“You mean _another_ one?” you giggle. Barry pinches one of your nipples as a teasing sort of punishment. It makes you squirm. He rolls over you, gets off of the couch and slides into his boxers.

He walks over to the kitchen where the nearly completed gingerbread house still stands. He gets a glass of water for you to share. When he opens the fridge though he grins ear to ear. He pulls out a can of whipped cream and sprays some of it into his mouth. He then grabs the present out of one of the bags he’d brought with him. Before giving you the present though, Barry exposes your naked body which was tucked nicely under a blanket. Without warning, he sprays the whipped cream between your breasts and onto your nipples.

“Barry, what are you doing?” you exclaim. He winks at you and proceeds to lick the foamy substance off of your body. The actions turn you on and make you yearn for round two.

“Next time, we are definitely using this,” he declares.

“Now I’m all sticky,” you frown. Barry just giggles and reassures you that he’ll shower with you to get it off. He then gets suddenly serious.

“I had imagined tonight a little differently. I would’ve said this before we did _what_ we just did. I wanted you to believe it was genuine.”

“What is it?” you ask, thinking it’s whatever is in the tiny present. He hands it over and you open it. It’s a tiny little key. “What is it for? Your heart?” you guess as a joke. Barry shrugs.

“Metaphorically, yeah. But it’s supposed to be preceded with my declaration of love.”

“Declaration?” It’s hard to tell if he’s joking. The man is in his underwear, for pete’s sake! Barry reaches out to caress your cheek.

“Yeah. I love you, Y/N. I have for a while actually. I’ve just always been too nervous to tell you,” he confesses. You’re pretty sure your jaw just dropped. You sit up on the couch, putting on one of Barry’s discarded undershirts. You lean forward and kiss him.

“I love you too, Barry.” You pull him in lay on the couch beside you and the two of you kiss for several minutes. “What is the key for, Barry? What does it open?” Barry just smiles at you.

“You’ll just have to find out tomorrow.”

 

* * *

 

Barry spends the night with you and in the morning, you make love again. Barry claims it should be your new Christmas tradition: having sex on Christmas morning with your boyfriend. He’s the one who uses the word ‘boyfriend’ first.

You’re the first two people at Joe’s house on Christmas morning. Presents are put under the tree and when Barry deems the tree not well-decorated enough, he takes it upon himself as a speedster to re-decorate it in 5 seconds.

As everyone else arrives, Barry stays by your side most of the time. You wonder if the team will catch on. Joe definitely seems to notice as the two of you giggle and blush over the pie and cookies you brought. Just like last night, Barry can’t resist spraying some whipped cream right into his mouth. When no one is looking, he kisses you with that mouthful of whipped cream and gets it all over your mouth.

“That’s hot,” he whispers in your ear. You smack his shoulder and scorn him.

When you’re walking over to the living room from the dining room, Cisco points and shouts, “Mistletoe! Barr, you gotta kiss Y/N.” Sure enough there’s a mistletoe right on the archway between the rooms. Barry just shrugs, wraps his arm around your waist, holds your head with his other hand and pulls you in for a big kiss. The kiss lasts longer than it needs to but Barry’s lips insist on parting and deepening the kiss. Cisco clears his throat and you pull away, lips swollen and cheeks flushed. “Um…excuse me…what was that?”

“Y/N and I are…uh…” Barry stumbles in his explanation even though just a second ago he was all about showing it.

“I’m his girlfriend now,” you blurt out.

“Yeah, I think we get that,” Joe says with wide but teasing eyes.

After dinner but before dessert is when you all open presents. It’s your favorite part of Christmas, watching people open the gifts you got them. Iris, Caitlin, Cisco, Joe, and Barry all love what you gave them and you love what you receive. Barry waits to be the last one to give you a present.

“Here’s part three of my presents. Do you have the key?” Barry asks. He’d insisted on you bringing it over tonight. The present he hands you isn’t very big. It’s about half the size of your hand and it’s light. You open it, aware of everyone’s eyes on you.

“A locket?”

It’s oval shaped, silver and a little large than a quarter.

“The key unlocks it,” Barry explains. You take the key out and stick it into the lock. When it clicks and opens, you have to stop yourself from making a fool of yourself and crying. In the locket are small versions of your favorite two pictures of your parents. One of the pictures includes a young version of you.

“Barry…” you’re tearing up and basically choking on your words. “It’s…it’s so beautiful…I love it…so much…thank you,” you wrap your arms around your new boyfriend and kiss him as the tears begin to fall. You notice Caitlin and Iris even tearing up a bit too. They know your story and how important a gift like this is. “I love you, Barry,” you whisper between kisses. Barry whispers it back to you. He takes the locket and puts it around your neck.

“I know you don’t really celebrate Christmas at your apartment because of your parents,” Barry nervously rubs the back of his neck, “but I was hoping that you and I can start some traditions of our own. They’ll always be with us in spirit when you wear your locket.” Already you’re feeling an attachment to the necklace. You reach out to caress Barry’s cheek and kiss him. When you pull back, he smiles and says “Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

“Merry Christmas, Barry. Thank you. Thank you for making this the best Christmas I’ve ever had.”


End file.
